


Torn From Crow Talons

by danceswithhamsters01



Series: Reddit Prompts [74]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mages, POV Child, Past Child Abuse, Rescue, Zevran's been rescuing Baby Crows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 01:04:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20826815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithhamsters01/pseuds/danceswithhamsters01
Summary: Based on a prompt from r/dragonage.Prompt 4: AppleZevran and Sevarra did not sit idle after "retiring" to a life in Antiva. Part of their Retirement Hobby? Stealing child recruits away from the Antivan Crows. One such rescue results in them meeting the little girl who'd become their eldest daughter.





	Torn From Crow Talons

It had been three sunrises since that nice elf man had taken her away from that place with the mean people. She was beginning to wonder if maybe he’d been telling her the truth.

“_Here, no one will hurt you, bellacita.”_

He’d taken her from the wooden houses with the holes in them that sat by the stable, where she usually only smelled horse and other yucky things. As the old wooden building had gone up in pretty orange and yellow colors, he’d grabbed her and run far and fast. They hadn’t stopped running until they’d come to a small house by the edge of the forest. He acted as if he belonged there as he opened the door.

And then she’d seen the strange woman, the one who called the elf “amor,” who looked like something out of the scary stories about witches. Not the wrinkly old ones, but the pretty ones that always stabbed the heroes in the back before the end of the story. It wasn’t natural for people to be the same color as the moons! Most people she’d seen hadn’t been that pale! What was worse, something about the lady made her feel funny. As if she could hear a buzzing, but she knew it was only inside of her head. She hadn’t felt the buzzing while the elf man had carried her away from the bad place.

Marisol had dived behind his legs when the strange pale woman with ink-black hair who made her head buzz knelt to get a better look at her. She knew the elf man was kind. This strange lady was an unknown factor. That buzzing reminded her of that mean old woman back at the place she’d been taken away from. That old woman had said things about “mages” and “magic” and “training to begin as soon as possible.”

It wasn’t all bad in the strange little house. No one yelled at her. No one hit her. No one kept her from eating. In fact, the strange lady left a plate of something nice every morning by the bed Marisol had preferred to sleep under. One morning, she’d found a plate with several thick cuts of bacon and warm bread with jam on it. Another morning, it had been a flaky pastry stuffed with cinnamon, sugar, and roasted bits of apple. The elf man, who called himself Zevran, came and went every day. And there was a dog who was bigger than a pony! Oh, and a baby. Well, maybe not a baby, he could walk, and almost always followed the giant dog everywhere when he wasn’t tugging at the skirts of the strange lady. But he hadn’t said any words, yet. At most, he’d point at things and go “Ba! Da!” or something.

She heard the soft clink of the strange lady putting another plate on the nightstand. Before she knew it, the woman knelt down and peered into her lair under the bed. The woman’s smile traveled to her silver eyes.

“Come on out, my dear. The honeycake’s fresh and warm. Have you ever had any before?”

_What was honeycake? _Marisol was intrigued. But… she’d have to leave her lair to find this strange new thing. She’d have to be out in the open with the strange lady who made her head buzz. Was a treat worth the risk?

“It’s okay, little one. I’m a mage, too. I won’t hurt you.”

That word again, “mage.” The word the mean old lady had said with something in her voice that always made the girl feel scared. The pale lady’s tone was… soft? Comforting? The girl pondered for a few moments before the smell of the treat made her tummy rumble. Cautiously, she crawled out from under the bed. As before, the treat lay on a plate on the nightstand. She grabbed the spongy thing and took a cautious nibble. Her eyes went wide after swallowing the first bite and she quickly went on to take a second, much bigger bite. Before she knew it, she gobbled the entire thing up!

The pale woman chuckled and moved to gently wipe away the crumbs on her face with a napkin. She seemed saddened, but not surprised, when Marisol shrank back from her touch. She offered the napkin to the girl instead.

“It’s alright. No one’s going to hurt you here.”

The bedroom’s door creaked as it opened, announcing that the giant dog had let himself in. The yellow-haired toddler came waddling in after him. The black-haired woman chuckled as she turned her gaze to the intruders. The dog sat on his haunches after reaching the bed. The little boy let loose a cheerful squawk and pulled on the blankets as if trying to climb on to the bed. Before he could get his feet off the ground, his mother scooped him up and then sat him on her lap after taking a seat on the bed.

“It seems Fang and Alonzo wanted to say hello,” she grinned. “The fuzzy one is Fang.” The woman’s voice wasn’t as musical-sounding as most of the adults she’d heard. She also said certain words in a funny way, as if her mouth couldn’t shape them rightly. Was she from somewhere else?

The girl turned to regard the dog. Fang watched her with warm yellow eyes, his stubby tail slowly wagging. His muzzle and the rest of him for that matter was covered in a mix of cinnamon and grey fur. The toddler, Alonzo, was busy trying to shove the pendant of his mother’s necklace into his mouth. He whined when she pulled it away and tucked it under her shirt. Instead of bawling, he turned to look at the girl. He had the same strange eyes as his mother. “Da ba!” the boy exclaimed, waving a hand at the girl.

“Now, now, dearest. It’d be much more polite to ask her what her name is, instead of giving her one you’ve made up.”

Marisol couldn’t help the giggle that came out of her mouth.

“You can call me Sevarra, but ‘hey you!’ works in a pinch,” the woman said with a smile. “You remember the man who brought you here, yes? His name is Zevran. He’ll be back home tonight. What are you called, my dear?”

She paused and thought for a moment. The mean old lady had never bothered about names, not even with the people who wore the strange black clothes and had weapons strapped all over their bodies. The only thing the adults back at the house near the stables bothered to call her was ‘brat.’ That wasn’t her name, she knew that much, at least. Other people, nicer people, had called her something else, when they still lived in the little house by the water, back before the mean people in black clothing had taken her away from them.

“Marisol,” she answered.


End file.
